I've needed to blog for a very long time now. And I've meant to, really, truly and honestly. I've got a lot on my mind but deciding what to blog and what to leave out has given me cause to procrastinate. Also, my insane quest for perfectionism has also hampered publication of the last two edits of this post.
I've also been quite distracted by a little thing that starts with T, ends in R and has very little wit in the middle. I only joined because I'm a fan of 'Twilight' and Peter Facinelli. In deference to those who have little patience for all things Cullen, I will spare you the details.
Goodness, my perfectionistic streak has just hit overdrive and I'm tempted to start this post all over again. But you won't know will you? Because with one movement, I can delete this whole thing and you would be none the wiser. Can I resist temptation long enough to get this blog post out?
Back to twitter. I actually love it. A lot. Is that bad? Do I care if that's bad? And if I don't care if it's bad is that a sign that I should stop tweeting. Some people shouldn't tweet, at all. And it's definitely not for everyone. Personally, I find it quite interesting.
Aside: The word interesting is not that interesting a word, is it? It's used so often these days that it no longer conveys the weight of its original meaning. Thesaurus.com suggests the following synonyms, maybe I'll find a better word there. Maybe - appealing, entertaining, captivating, provocative. Perhaps engaging is the word I want but it's hardly exotic. Got it, prepossessing. Now, let's get back to the previous train of thought.
Yes, twitter is a prepossessing website. I've met so many genuine, engaging people (and my fair share of spambots) along the way. It's fired up my passion for photography and self expression and allowed me to be myself to greater degree than normal. Mostly because the people I follow and those who follow me don't usually know me in real life. If I needed to, I could disappear with little trace if something were to go cataclysmically wrong. Which I hope it never does. Though, due to my faith and my line of work, I must exercise some discretion in what I tweet openly. Google is never far away.
And it doesn't matter if you weren't the cool kid in class, because no-one knows your backstory unless you want to tell it. If you are that rare bird that wants to post your memoirs on-line, you'll have to chose your words very carefully. As an added incentive, it helps to know that Twitter is largely populated by geeks, nerds, tech-heads and ifails.
BTW, is uncoolness genetic? How are kids chosen to be uncool? Is it something I said or did that classified me as the uncool kid. Or do most kids feel uncool even if they are seen as the cool kids?
My thought processes have come to an abrupt end. I've so much to say but cannot remember the half of it. Darn it. If I remember what I wanted to say, I will edit this post or just simply make a new one. Well, to fill the gap and round off this blog, let me share a little pun that was far too long to tweet. And as much as I hate stating the obvious, I must say that no offense is intended.
Mahatma Gandhi, as you know, walked barefoot most of the time, which produced on impressive set of calluses on his feet. He also ate very little, which made him rather frail. And, with his odd diet, he suffered from bad breath. This made him…(Oh, man, this is so bad, its good)…A super calloused fragile mystic vexed by halitosis.
